Monday, 21 April 2008

Mugabe and the Devil

And Mugabe awoke with a hoof on his throat and he
struggled and howled to be free,
And tripped on the racks of his English shoes and clawed
at his English suits,
And crashed down the unlit corridors where his wife has
collected her loot,
Screaming “You may not condemn me - there are by-laws
and statutes and fines”
But the Devil replied “God’s law trumps that, and by his
law you’re mine.”
Come, see what you’ve done to your people, see what
you’ve done to your land,
And then I’ll haul you back into the light, and see if
you understand;
Then the Devil seized him by his neck and dragged him up
into the night
And Bob hung limp, for one against one was not his idea
of a fight
They spiralled down to a wasteland, and Mugabe sprawled
on his face,
“Spare me, spare me” he whimpered, “spare me this
terrible place”,
For he saw charred beams and scattered bricks, filth and
ruin and weeds,
And through the dawn came children, sifting the dust for
seeds.
“Eight years ago” said the Devil, “this place was heavy
with maize,
There was fruit on the trees and crops in the earth and
grass for the cows to graze, It was farmed by those who loved the soil, who knew it
and tended it well,
And now it’s farmed by cellphone, from the Monomotapa
hotel.”
“Racist” screamed Mugabe, “Imperialist, Colonist,
Queer!
These people are free, that’s down to me and that’s why
I rule here!”
“Free to do what?” asked the Devil, “to cower and cringe
to survive?
The farms are going, the work is gone, now only your
thugs can thrive,
Preying on women and children, feeding on horror and
fear,
Flying flags of hate and despair that had no business
here;
Look at your mindless militias, look in each alien face,
Condemned by their own insanity, exiled for life from
the race,
Watch them go into action, cheer as they take up the
fight,
Beating up Zimbabweans for the crime of being white,
Red-eyed from drink, thick-tongued from drugs, watch
them go off on a spree
Burning the homes of Africans who dared to be honestly
free.”
Mugabe licked his lips and whispered, “All freedom comes
at a price,”
“Indeed?” said the Devil “And for the record - what was
your sacrifice?
Did you give blood to the struggle? How manytimes were
you mortared?
Or did you play politics in a hotel, and wait till your
rivals were slaughtered?
If ever you tasted honour or pain those tastes were long
since forgotten,
Eclipsed by the flavours of power and greed, the aromas
of all that is rotten.
Come, Mugabe” and up they flew and soared over country
and town
And each time they swooped, hunger and horror reached up
to pull them down,
And the souls of children streamed past them, and on and
up into the light
And Mugabe whimpered and twisted, to shield his eyes
from the sight
“Sons of despair,” said the Devil “and daughters of
desolate selves,
It’s the West that gives food to your people, while your
cronies are stuffing themselves,
The West you despise and prosecute is the innocent’s
sponsor and friend,
But when your young ‘veterans’ seize the supplies, these
fragile lives have to end;”
“I did not know,” croaked Mugabe and the Devil applauded
with glee:
“Save your lies for Mbeki, they make no impression on
me.
Now, look at the shuttered factories, look at the
overnight queues.” “Blame the British,” Bob stammered, “the whites, the
Norwegians, the Jews.”
But the streets sent up a whisper, a whisper as loud as
a roar:
“The old man who stole three elections - it’s time that
we showed him the door!”
A scream rose up from the city, a scream rose up from a
cell,
And the Devil plunged them into the earth and a cameo
from hell
Of shadowed figures with smiling lips that shone with
delight and disdain,
Of a body convulsing and wrenching, shaking apart from
the pain;
“Applaud your police,” said the Devil, “corrupted beyond
repair,
And caress the electrodes, the batons and guns, and the
innocent tied to the chair.”
But as Mugabe stretched out his hand the scene was gone
in a flash,
And he stared instead at a drive full of Mercs and a
house full of money and trash,
And then at the gloom of an upstairs room, heavy with
malice and lies,
Where fat men sat and talked poison, avoiding each
others’ eyes:
“Here are your generals,” the Devil hissed, “your
ministers, judges and hacks,
They have fortunes and forex and farms they can’t farm,
it’s only a future they lack,Do they flee for Malaysia , Libya , France with their women and all they
can pack?
Or do they just turn and remove you, and claim
dispensation for that?
Look at the wealth that seeps from them, and then hold
your nose at the stench
Of the paltry crew that cleave to you, the cowards, the
fools and the French;
See them plotting and scheming; hear your folly
despised,
Even your reptiles want you gone - you made them, are
you surprised?
Now do you know what you are Mugabe, now do you
understand?
You’re the Lord of the bloated thousand, and King of an
empty land.
What gave you most pleasure Mugabe? Which wickedness
tasted most sweet?
The mass murder of Ndebele? The children with nothing
to eat?The whites you had casually butchered? The election
results that you changed?
Or the war that you fought in the Congo , for
diamond commissions arranged?
The perversion of half of the system? The enrichment of
those you despise?
The limos and money and power? The lies and the lies and
the lies?
I ought to admire you Mugabe; you’ve certainly earned
your hellfire,
And all for small motives, self interest and fear, that
aspect I have to admire;
Better by far that you never had lived, Robert Gabriel,
The world will heal the wounds you’ve left, but I cannot
heal you in hell!”
Then the Devil’s right hand grabbed Mugabe, and Mugabe
he screamed in his fright,
And scrabbled and pleaded and whimpered and begged…
And awoke to an African night,
And sweated and panted and shuddered, calling his aides
to his side,
Reconstituting his ego, his vanity, evil and pride,
But then screamed again, recoiling, from that he could
not bear to see:
The slogans burning his eyes from the walls and
the words… we want to be free!
Enough is enough! Zvakwana!!
Sokwanele!!
The Devil meandered down Second, and strolled up Samora
Machel,
“The brave will inherit,” he murmured, “when I have
Mugabe in hell:
And the dawn will return to Zimbabwe , and
children will learn how to smile,
Zimbabwe
is one of God’s countries… but at least it was mine for a while

Didn't think to add it to my journal Gudeo. Thanks for doing that. You have a much larger readership than I do anyway so it will be read by many more. I did think that it was very powerful Sorry I don't know who wrote it will try to find out. Love Sybil x

Don't get me started on Mugabe....our own president Thabo Mbeki (Mugabes' pal!) has now allowed China to bring weapons via Durban harbour to Zimbabwe....I think war there is not too far in the future.Can you imagine? This has been kept very quiet internationally! I'm glad to be escaping...emigration in our country has shot up to 400%...sooo very sad!! Take care Guido. Shauneen xx